


Am I Adam or Am I Satan

by TQ121



Series: The Most Exquisite Corpse [4]
Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Blood Kink, Blood and Gore, Body Horror, M/M, Medical Kink, Unethical Medicine, Vivisection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-22
Updated: 2019-10-22
Packaged: 2020-12-28 00:22:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21127715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TQ121/pseuds/TQ121
Summary: This both a fill for Kinktober Day 20: Knife PlayIt belongs in the series The Most Exquisite Corpse byDauverneyand I.After an intense vivisection Rhys realizes something about himself, but doesn't quite know how to explain it to his lover Jack.





	Am I Adam or Am I Satan

**Author's Note:**

> I posted this outside of the Kinktober fic because it just has a bunch of warnings that might make it too intense to fit with the rest of the kinktober prompts.

Rhys shaved the sailors stomach with practiced ease, and the sailor struggled in the leather straps holding him down.

He didn’t get the best job done, but the sailor was squirming beneath him interfering with the job. Rhys didn’t need it done perfectly so he tossed the razor onto the table, and grabbed a scalpel from the tools spread out there for him.

Holding the blade in the light Rhys looked down at the man who desperately tried to beg through his gag. With an annoyed frown Rhys actually looked at the sailors terrified face. “Would you please hold still.”

He only screamed behind the gag and struggled harder.

With a put upon sigh Rhys leaned over the man, and moved his prosthetic into a position where he could lean on it to help hold the man down. It wasn’t a perfect replacement for a real arm, but it was the only option Rhys had.

It didn’t make the way he contorted his body any less painful.

Rhys set the blade on the skin below the sternum, and finally the victim stilled.

“Thank you.” Rhys muttered and dragged the scalpel down the man’s stomach in a straight line.

The sailor got louder and began to squirm again, but Rhys ignored it all and continued to cut through layers of skin and fat. Rhys peeled back the fat from the muscle and opened the man’s abdomen like a book.

Today he wanted to observe the muscles beneath in action.

Looking up at the man Rhys asked him. “Could you try clenching your stomach for me? I would like to see it.”

The man shook his head in denial of the whole ordeal. Fat tears ran down his face, and he whimpered.

Annoyed Rhys mumbled. “I guess I’ll have to do it myself.”

Covered in blood Rhys then filled the next hour putting the man in different positions, and documenting how the muscles actually moved. He could see how the man’s living body actually fought against it, and he noted all the minute differences between the living and dead.

Unfortunately the man became less and less lively, and started losing body heat. He stared blankly at the world even as his breathing shallowed.

Tisking Rhys chose not to waste the last breaths of the man, and removed the man’s abdominal muscles with the skill of a butcher. Beneath he observed the still living organs as they made their last desperate attempts at life.

He didn’t last long enough for Rhys’ taste, and as he stood there scalpel in hand he realized a very awkward thing.

Biting his bottom lip Rhys curiously lowered his hand to his crotch, and he felt his hard member. Blushing he lifted his hand away as if he was burnt.

Rhys wish he felt alarmed.

* * *

That night Rhys laid in Jack’s bed dressed only in his night clothes. It was becoming more and more common that Rhys slept in Jack’s bed. Their trysts turned into something domestic in mimicry of marriage.

Rhys didn’t fully understand the depths of their feelings, but he knew he would fight for them.

His one arm lay on his chest while he waited for Jack to return, but his mind wandered to his mornings work. The corpse now lay cold on the slab, and Rhys would attend it later. There was no use letting a body go to waste after all, but cutting into the dead no longer peaked Rhys’ interest as it did before.

The euphoria of cutting open living flesh and seeing how his well tended blades took them apart rivaled Jack’s skilled hands on Rhys’ body, and at some times greatly surpassed it.

Rhys itched under the skin wanting to take someone apart without the excuse of study, but to simply watch living flesh cut and bleed. To shove his hands in the bloody warmth and feel the life force living organs gave off. To hold a still beating heart as it struggled to keep the mutilated body alive.

He knew his reaction was inhuman, and not for the first time did he lie in bed wondering whether he was a changeling wearing human skin.

Maybe even a demon ignorant of its own nature.

Cold air briefly slipped under the down blanket, but Jack’s large warm frame quickly replaced it as he slid into bed.

Jack wore his cocky half smile as he lay on his side looking at Rhys like he was something special. His large hand reached out and took Rhys’ more delicate one and squeezed it in a way that made Rhys feel more alive than normal.

“Penny for your thoughts.”

Rhys smiled despite his grim thoughts, and turned to watch Jack’s face in the moonlight. The greeks would rethink there obsessive love of youth if they saw Jack. Jack’s broad shoulders and slim waist made Rhys weak at the knees to think about. His face was a thing of sculpted beauty, and Rhys thought it was a shame Jack hid it beneath his prosthetic face. The scars just showed how resilient Jack was, and Rhys believed he was more handsome than any greek sculpture.

He would be even more breathtaking covered in his own blood.

Lacing his fingers with Jack’s Rhys answered. “Sometimes I wonder if my parents knew more about me than they let on.”

Jack’s thumb caressed the inside of Rhys’ palm. “What do you mean by that?”

Closing his eyes Rhys relaxed into the moment. “You know by now I have problems just feeling. Romantic’s would surely think I was dead or didn’t have a soul.”

Snorting Jack rested his forehead against Rhys’. “Yeah well most Romantics are idiots who just like to hear their own voice.”

Rhys smiled and licked his lips, “You are right, but that's not the point.”

“Mom and dad treated me like a dress up doll.” Rhys continued. “Perhaps they knew there was something fundamental missing inside me, and they thought that by molding me into what they thought was a perfect gentleman would prevent me from doing evil.”

Jack didn’t say anything for a long moment, but he didn’t pull away from Rhys either. For a brief moment Rhys thought he had fallen asleep, but Jack said. “I think it's more likely your parents were assholes.”

“That's your assessment for everyone.”

“Well it's almost always right.” Jack argued.

They both fell silent for a few minutes soothed by the warmth of each other under the dovlet. Rhys eventually closed any distance with Jack and listened to Jack’s heartbeat. The smooth steady rhythm soothed him in ways nothing else could. 

“I want to cut you open and look inside you.” Rhys confessed.

Jack just snorted, and put his arm over Rhys’ shoulder to hug him close.

“I know, Rhys.”


End file.
